The Return
by Loveedith
Summary: A story about coming back from the dead. Canon AU.
1. Waking Up

Bertie Pelham was happy. More happy than he had ever thought he could be.

...

It was in the middle of the night, and he had just woken up. At first he wondered where he was, but almost immediately he remembered. Because he had something in his arms - or rather someone. A sleeping naked Edith.

They were sleeping in her apartment and yesterday evening they had made love for the very first time. They were going to be married in two weeks, but somehow they hadn't managed to wait until then. So, here they were, warm and cosy, together under the duvet. And most likely they were going to make love again in the morning.

But right now he didn't want to wake Edith up. He sat up in bed, casting a loving glance at her naked form - she was so incredibly beautiful, in addition to all the other things he loved her for. Then he put the duvet around her so she wouldn't get cold while he was away. She sighed while he did that, but she also had a smile on her face. She was having happy dreams, he presumed. He would love it if they were about him, but it didn't really matter, as long as she was happy.

...

Bertie had promised Edith to be there in the morning, but right now he needed to get out of bed to go to the loo.

Bertie was as naked as Edith was and he didn't want to be cold when he returned to her. But last night he hadn't expected to stay over, what had happened was all very spontaneous, so he hadn't brought anything to wear.

Well, he had to borrow then. He took a dressing-gown from Mr Gregson's wardrobe. Edith had talked about giving Gregson's clothes away to charity, but she hadn't got around to doing it.

Right now Bertie was thankful that she hadn't done it. Your loss is my gain, he thought as he put on the gown.

...

Some minutes later Bertie went to the kitchen to drink a glass of water. He let the tap run for a while before he filled up his glass. He had just started drinking when he heard a strange sound.

There was someone at the door. Someone who was probably trying to break in. Bertie took up the poker and went to stand at the door, happy that Edith wasn't alone in the apartment when a thing like this happened.

The burglar was very quiet, it sounded like he was trying out a key. Probably he was using some devise to try to open the lock, Bertie thought.

Then the door turned open and a man who looked vaguely familiar stared at Bertie as if he had seen a ghost.

Which was exactly what Bertie thought he was doing.

* * *

AN: Thank you for reading! Please leave a comment!

...

I'm better at starting new stories than finishing the ones I have already started, it seems.


	2. First Impressions

Michael Gregson had expected his apartment to be empty when he returned late that night after some of the worst years of his life. He was certain that it took longer than three years to declare a missing person dead. He had every reason to expect that he would be able to pick up everything where he had left it, his apartment, his magazine, his money. His life.

And his lady - or rather Lady - Edith Crawley. Although he hadn't even tried to get a divorce from Lizzie, which was a complication.

But he was sure Edith would understand why when he explained it to her. And perhaps Lizzie had died while he was away. Her health was rather fragile, it wasn't only her sanity that was failing her.

So to find this very unfamiliar young man in his home was a very unpleasant surprise to him. The only familiar thing about him was actually the dressing-gown.

It was even worse that the man was threatening him with a lifted poker. Michael's own poker on top of everything else.

It was so late and he was too tired to deal with something like that.

Who was this man? What was he doing here? Why did he behave as if he owned the place?

...

The two men looked at each other for a long, long time. Neither of them found a single word to say.

Bertie was the one to finally break the long silence.

"Mr Gregson, I presume", he said, though Gregson was hardly a Doctor Livingston. Then he let his hand with the poker sink.

It was obvious to Michael that the young man knew who he was. Perhaps he had been hired by someone to keep an eye on the apartment?

"That is my dressing-gown you are wearing", was all Michael said as a confirmation. "I don't really like that."

"Yes, I'm sorry, Mr Gregson", Bertie said. "I didn't think you needed it since you have been away for so long. Perhaps you would prefer me to be naked?"

Michael actually thought that over for a second or two. No, he didn't like this man and he would like him even less without clothes.

"Point taken", he said with a sigh. "You can keep it for now."

...

There was a long silence between the two of them again. Once again Bertie was the first to break it.

"Strictly speaking the dressing-gown isn't yours but Edith's", he said with a friendly smile.

Michael just stared at Bertie. He didn't return Bertie's smile.

"You are dead", Bertie added as an explanation. "They even held a memorial service for you. The Sketch did, but it was owned by Edith by then. Many literary celebrities attended it. They said some very nice things about you, according to Edith."

"Obviously I'm not dead", Michael said in an irritated tone. This young man was really getting at his nerves. "I wouldn't be here if I were, would I?"

"You are declared dead", Bertie corrected himself. "You will have to be undeclared, I guess, if they do such things. I have never had that kind of problem, so I don't know the legal implications of it. I don't know if you will be able to get anything back, either. You _did_ write a will to let Edith inherit you, and she accepted it all in good faith. But I'm certain she would be generous."

"But I'm not dead!" Michael said, too tired to wonder why this man talked about Edith as if he knew her very well. "It's absurd. I'm not dead! How many times do I have to tell you that?"

"They found your dead body", Bertie explained with a new gentle smile. "You had been killed in the Beer Hall Putsch, although they didn't find your body until much later."

That made Michael Gregson silent. This was all too much for him. And it was none of this obnoxious man's business.

"I wonder who the poor sod was", Bertie added as an afterthought. "And why they thought he was you."

"Oh, I don't know. And I don't care. I just want to get some sleep. Just let me get into my bed, I will have to sort this out in the morning."

" _Edith's_ bed", Bertie corrected him. "And she is sleeping in it right now. I'm certain that you don't want to shock her by waking her up in the middle of the night. Not when she believes that you have been dead for many years."

"I know she loves me", Gregson said lamely, but it was obvious that the young man wouldn't allow him into the bedroom. And he still had the poker in his hand.

...

So they both went into the kitchen to solve their problem in the way most English problems are solved.

With a nice cup of tea.

* * *

AN: Thank you for reading! Thank you for the many kind comments to last chapter! And please keep writing them! Reviews are the fuel that keeps the fanfiction writer going.

...

I actually feel rather sorry for Gregson here. It isn't all that easy to return from the dead.


	3. Drinking Tea

Bertie put the poker back down by the stove in the kitchen. He didn't really trust Gregson, but holding the poker while making tea was very impractical.

Besides - Gregson seemed to be resigned to his fate now. Instead of insisting on going into the bedroom he busied himself with helping Bertie to make the tea.

Bertie felt certain now that Gregson wouldn't grab the poker and threaten him with it to be able to force his way into the bedroom to Edith. Gregson must realise that being awaken in the middle of the night by someone who had been dead for years was not a good experience.

Gregson cared enough for Edith not to insist, and that made Bertie like him a little better.

He knew that Edith had loved and trusted this man, but that didn't really make Bertie trust him. There were too many question marks, both in the way Gregson had disappeared and the way he had come back.

But Gregson didn't look like much of a threat, worn out and dirty as he was. He was looking at least twenty years older than the fifty-something that Bertie knew that he was. The man must have had a hard life lately, Bertie thought.

...

The beneficial health effects of tea - any Englishman would tell you about them - are not limited to the drinking of it. Even the little ceremony of tea-making has its calming effect on the mind. The boiling of the water, the warming of the tea pot, the measuring up of the tea, the time of stillness needed to let it brew - all these little rites served to soothe an agitated and restless mind.

Both Bertie and Michael felt a little more confidence in each other after making tea together. They sat down at the table, each with a steaming cup in front of him, waiting for the tea to cool down enough to be possible to sip.

...

So this was the man who had caused Edith so much worry and pain, Bertie thought. Where had he been hiding those last few years?

Sitting there without talking, Bertie got some disturbing thoughts. He wondered what would happen if he hit Gregson in the head with that poker. The man was declared dead after all, so no one would miss him.

But of course Bertie couldn't do a thing like that, and it wasn't the thought of having to hide the body - while wearing nothing but its own dressing-gown - that held him back.

Of course not. Bertie Pelham wasn't a violent man. He had been to the war, he had been there for far too many years. And the presence of all that death and horror had only made him less violent.

...

After taking their first sip of tea the two men looked at each other again.

It is hard to drink tea with another person in total silence so Michael decided to talk.

"I'm totally worn out", Gregson said with a deep sigh. "I have been travelling through Germany for more than a week, after several years in prison."

"How come you haven't tried to contact anybody here?" Bertie wondered when he heard this. "Made a phone call or sent a telegram? Perhaps it would have been a little awkward since they all thought you were dead, but you didn't seem to be aware of that."

"I wanted to get back to England as fast as possible", Michael said with a sigh. "I wanted to get out of Germany before something else happened to me - something bad. I have been half starved this week - not that the food was all that good in the prison either. I found it much more important to buy food than to send a telegram. There really was no hurry, I have already been away for more than three years, so a week or two extra wouldn't make much difference..."

Bertie decided just to let Gregson talk. To his own surprise he was starting to feel sorry for the man.

"When I was let out of prison they gave me back the few things I had when they arrested me. The clothes on my back, you can see how worn they are. My Swedish passport that of course is a fake, and a wallet with very little money in it. And my keys, the key to this apartment among them."

"Ah" Bertie said. "I see. I thought someone was breaking in, but you still had the key."

"That key was all I had kept from my life here. I only got over to London with a freighter from Hamburg late this evening. I thought it would be easier to enter England with a forged passport as a sailor on leave, and also I had no means to pay for a ticket on a passenger boat. I was desperate to leave Germany... It was lucky they thought I was a Swede. They are apparently known to be good sailors - I'm not exactly young so... I have shovelled coal all evening... I'm tired in every way, you didn't need to threaten me with that poker. I didn't feel safe until I was back on English soil again, and then it was too late to call anybody. So I just went here to sleep."

"As I said, I thought you were a burglar, breaking in", Bertie said. "I wouldn't have grabbed the poker if I had known that it was you."

...

Michael Gregson would wonder later on why he hadn't even asked what Bertie was doing there. Afterwards it seemed to him that it had all been obvious, but perhaps he had been too exhausted to realise. Or simply too unwilling to accept it.

He hadn't even asked for Bertie's name. He didn't find that out until later, when Edith woke up.

* * *

AN: Thank you for reading! Thank you for the many friendly comments to last chapter. Please keep reviewing!


	4. The Empty Bed

When Edith woke up that night her bed was empty. Bertie wasn't there any longer.

...

At first it didn't worry her. She had asked Bertie to stay the night after they made love the evening before, so she was certain he had only gone up to answer a call of nature.

She waited for him to come back, thinking about how wonderful it had all been. How their evening and night had developed. How strong her love for him was, how much stronger it was than the love she had felt for any other man in her life. How happy she was that _he_ loved _her_.

That kept her occupied for a while.

But Bertie didn't come back. As one minute after the other passed by Edith started to worry.

The door to the hallway was closed and she didn't hear a single sound from the apartment outside it. No flushing of the toilet, no tapping of water. No barefoot footsteps.

Nothing.

...

As she lied there in bed in the total silence her mind started to play tricks with her. It made up fearsome and appalling explanations: Bertie had left her. She had given him what he wanted and he was disappointed in her. He was tired of her and now he had left her.

Or was she only too tired to think straight?

She lay there for a couple of minutes more, and nothing happened. The night was absolutely quiet. Bertie still didn't return.

Edith was getting more and more scared and confused. Bertie had indeed left her!

She had been abandoned before, perhaps that was the reason it scared her so much. And the reason that her brain had started spinning this way. She knew what it was like. Anthony had left her at the altar, and Michael had disappeared in Germany after which she had gradually understood that she was pregnant.

She suddenly realised that she could very well be pregnant again. And then what, if Bertie didn't want her any longer?

But then she shrugged it all off. Even if she was pregnant she refused to be unhappy about it. Never, ever again. Having Marigold was a _good_ thing, although she hadn't realised it at first.

And Bertie hadn't abandoned her. She was absolutely sure that he would never do that. He was going to marry her in two weeks time and he would be _delighted_ if she got pregnant, now or after the wedding. She had no reason whatsoever to doubt that he loved her.

Besides, even if Bertie didn't marry her, it would all be so much easier a second time. She would be able to tell her parents - she knew now that they would accept and love the new child, like they accepted and loved Marigold.

Because she knew for certain now that they accepted and loved Edith herself. They were going to support her no matter what happened to her. Sometimes she had felt her whole life had been a struggle to get her parents love and affection, but that was over now.

...

Then some even more disturbing thoughts started to plague Edith.

She started to worry about Bertie. Perhaps he was taken ill or had tripped on something and hurt himself. Perhaps he was lying helpless and unconcious somewhere in the flat. She had to go and see why he didn't come back.

Edith trembled when she got out of bed. She was naked but she wasn't trembling with cold, she was trembling with fear. With uncertain steps she walked to the door, opened it and got out into the hallway, afraid of what she might find.

Then she saw him. She could see him through the open door to the kitchen. He was sitting there at the kitchen table with a cup of tea in front of him, looking very still and very thoughtful.

A wave of relief and happiness filled her when she saw him. She adored him. There was no limit to how much she loved and needed him.

...

"Oh, Bertie! I was afraid you had left", Edith said with a sigh as she stepped into the kitchen. She had a smile on her face and didn't give a second thought about how naked she was.

Bertie looked up from his tea-cup. For some reason he looked extremely embarrassed. What was the matter with him?

Then, suddenly, Edith realised that somebody else was there with him. An old man with grey hair and a haggard face was sitting at the other side of the table staring at her.

"Oh! I didn't realise you had a visitor", Edith said, turning around and returning to the bedroom, suddenly very shy about her nakedness.

What was this? she wondered as she started to put her clothes on. Why was Bertie drinking tea with an unknown old man in the kitchen? It couldn't be his father, because she knew Bertie's father was dead. And Bertie didn't have any other living male relatives either, not as far as she knew.

Who else could come like that for a visit in the middle of the night?

...

The real identity of the man in the kitchen didn't even cross her mind.

* * *

AN: Thank you for reading! Thank you for all the nice reviews!

...

To you who asked if Edith gets to hit Gregson with the poker I can only say: Please don't tempt me! And thank you so much for making me laugh!


	5. Jealousy

Lets go back half an hour or so in time!

Edith is still sleeping. The two men are sitting with their tea cups at the table in the kitchen of the apartment that was once Gregson's and is now - well, who knows, the juridical implications of Gregson return are rather uncertain.

...

Bertie wondered if he ought to introduce himself. But he didn't know how to do it. He didn't want to brag about his title, so he couldn't well say he was the Marquess of Hexham. He could of course have said that he was Mr. Pelham, but that wasn't really true any longer.

And how could Bertie explain what he was doing in Edith's apartement without leaving a stain on Edith's reputation? Although he was fairly certain that Gregson could draw his own conclusion.

Gregson didn't even understand that he had reason to be jealous. He wasn't usually so obtuse, but right now he was too tired to even think. He was so utterly exhausted.

He only wanted to go to bed and get some sleep.

...

Bertie wondered if he ought be jealous of Gregson. Edith had once loved this man, she had a child with him, she would have been happy to marry him if he just hadn't disappeared. Perhaps she still wanted to do that when she found out that he was still alive...

But how could Bertie be jealous of this sick and broken old man, when he himself had the juices and the memories of Edith's and his lovemaking so fresh on his body and in his mind?

No, he wasn't afraid that Edith would prefer Gregson. Not one bit.

Perhaps he was overconfident there, which was very much unlike him. But he _did_ know by now how much Edith loved him. He knew for certain that she would have been willing to marry him even at the time when he had nothing to offer to her but his salary as an agent.

It was only her secret that had made her hesitate. The secret that she had been afraid to tell because she knew that many people would have considered it to be shameful.

The only thing that frightened Bertie right then was that Gregson might want to take Marigold away from Edith. But he couldn't do that, could he. Edith was the only parent mentioned on Marigold's birth-certificate. Bertie had seen it. Father - unknown, it stated. Edith had said she had no way to mention Gregson since he was married to someone else. And disappeared - it gave him no chance to deny it.

...

The two men kept drinking their tea in silence. There didn't seem much more to say.

...

After more than half an hour of silence they heard the bedroom door open. Just a moment later the naked Edith stepped into the kitchen.

"Oh, Bertie! I was afraid you had left", she said with a sigh of relief.

It took her another moment to realise that Bertie wasn't alone in the kitchen.

* * *

AN: Thank you for reading! Thank you for the lovely comments to last chapter!

...

I just want to correct one misunderstanding. Actually, in this story, Edith doesn't make love to Bertie to prove to him that she loves him more than Gregson. That was the theme of another story by me, _A Better Man,_ but not of this one. I like to do things differently in each story. What is the use of writing the same story over and over again?

In this story Edith hadn't planned anything, it just happened. Because she loves Bertie and because I wanted Bertie to be there with her when Gregson came back, to make the story better.

...

But it is just a story, after all. This is my version of Edith and Bertie and Michael.

I started writing this story because I was curious how it could be to come back after almost four years to a place where everyone thinks you are dead and has moved on with their lives.

That is what I enjoy in writing - imagination. To imagine what it is like to be someone entirely different from me. A newborn baby, a pig or even Michael Gregson.


	6. Realisations

After Edith returned from the kitchen to the bedroom she dressed very quickly. She kept cursing herself for not putting on a night-gown before getting out of the bedroom like any normal person would do.

But she had been so worried about what might have happened to Bertie that she hadn't had time to waste another moment.

How was she to know he had a visitor? It was in the middle of the night and all very unexpected and strange.

But she had better swallow her pride and return to the kitchen, keeping her head up and pretending that she wasn't bothered about having been seen naked by an unknown man.

She was a Lady, after all, as her Granny so often reminded her.

...

The two men in the kitchen stared at each other, not knowing what to say or do.

Bertie thought about going after Edith and comfort her. Perhaps he ought to do that, but he decided that he had better not - if he went to the bedroom Gregson might come with him, and he didn't want that to happen. He wanted Edith to be able to dress in private.

Michael Gregson was at long last realising that this unknown Bertie was Edith's lover. Of course - a man in a dressing-gown in the hall, a naked woman sleeping alone in the bedroom.

He had been an idiot not to understand at once what they had been up to. He wanted to punch Bertie for taking advantage of Edith, but what good would that possibly do?

...

But the worst shock to Michael Gregson was actually not that Edith had a new lover.

"She didn't even recognize me!" he blurted out, his voice full of disappointment.

"She thinks you are dead", Bertie said, wondering why he was trying to comfort this man who could very well try to take Edith away from him.

Try and even succed.

"But still. I have known her and loved her for many years..." Michael said querulously.

"Perhaps you have changed", Bertie said with a shrug.

"But _you_ recognized me - and as far as I know you have only seen me in photos."

"Yes, that is true", Bertie said. "But I have studied your photos closely, because of Ma..." Bertie was just about to tell Gregson that he had wanted to discover any resemblance between Marigold and her biological father. But he realised that he had no right to tell Gregson about the girl, it wasn't his secret to tell.

"The Magazine", Bertie corrected himself. "Because Edith got the magazine from you. Besides, I have only ever seen you in black and white. Perhaps your colours have changed more than your looks."

Bertie actually hadn't found any resemblance at all between Gregson and little Marigold. Apart from the hair colour that Gregson had now lost.

...

When Edith was fully dressed she returned to the kitchen. She tried not to show the men how uncomfortable she felt.

"Aren't you going to introduce me to your visitor?" she asked Bertie with a smile. Then she took a closer look at the old man on the other side of the table. He looked vaguely familiar. Where had she seen this man before?

Then, suddenly, she recognized him.

...

It was the first time that Michael Gregson saw someone stare at him in terror and disbelief.

There would be other times later on, until the news of his return from the dead was common knowledge. But this was the one time that hurt him most.

It was so totally different from how he had imagined it would be to meet Edith again. He had imagined that she would run into his arms and cover him with kisses. Thoughts like that had helped to keep his spirits up during his long years in prison.

And now this. Edith had found someone else, she was involved with this annoying Bertie. And who knew how many others she had had in between.

And now she wasn't even happy to see him.

Women were not to be trusted. All women are fickle, Michael Gregson thought. Edith hadn't even bothered to wait for him to come back, in spite of all her talk of how much she loved him.

Gregson was too tired to realise how unfair his thoughts were.

...

"What kind of a nightmare is this...", the two men heard Edith murmur, very close to tears.

"I'm afraid it is real", Bertie said softly, wondering if he ought to take her in his arms. "You are awake, we both are. Mr Gregson has come back. He has most likely never been dead at all."

Bertie couldn't help feeling quite a bit sorry for Gregson when he saw the way Edith looked at him.

* * *

AN: Thank you for reading! And thank you so much for the kind reviews!

I'm happy that there are still a few people enjoying this story.


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